


Burning Bright

by Viridian5



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-09
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Farfarello doesn't take care of himself, so Schuldig does it for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Bright

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece originally written as background for a roleplay Schuldig account that I made some rewrites to so it would work within regular canon. Thanks to Rosaleendhu for pre-reading.

Farfarello burned. It was interesting being so dry. Floaty.

"What stupidity is this?"

Smiling, Farfarello half-opened his eye to see Schuldig standing before his bed, orange hair blazing even in the shady dimness of the stifling room. Farfarello croaked through cracked lips, "Tyger! Tyger! burning bright."

"It's my own hand that frames my fearful symmetry. How long have you been like this?"

"Time is an illusion."

"Oh, excellent." Schuldig departed from view, but Farfarello could hear the refrigerator open in the distance and a low growl of frustration. He returned with a cup and a dripping paper towel. "Idiot. Drink this. Slowly."

His mouth almost hurt as the water went in. Excellent. Schuldig set him back down on the bed and placed the wet towel over his forehead.

"I'm returning with air conditioning. Don't go anywhere. With the state you're in you shouldn't be able to, but it wouldn't surprise me if you did it just to spite me. Stay there. Promise?"

It made him want to giggle to hear and see the devil acting like a cranky mother hen. "Promise."

"Good." Eventually Schuldig returned with a large box. "It's like a pit of hell out there.... At least you put up a curtain," he muttered as he moved it aside to chip at the layers of paint on the windowsill with a knife.

"You'll dull the edge," Farfarello said as he removed the nearly warm towel from his skin.

"It'll keep. You won't."

After enough chipping and muttered German curses, Schuldig managed to open the window in a blast of yellow heat and put the air conditioner in. It hummed when he turned it on. He put the curtain back down, casting the room and himself back into dimness. "Are you trying to kill yourself, Farfarello, or was that just a pleasant side effect?"

"The heat jumped suddenly. I enjoyed some of the side effects."

"Most people find heat exhaustion and dehydration unpleasant. You turn it into a mystical experience." Schuldig gave him another cup of water to nurse.

"Hmmm. I'm difficult to kill."

"But not impossible."

He felt his energy and hunger start to rise as the room cooled. He also realized that he smelled highly unpleasant, and his sheets stuck to him. "I need a shower."

"Cool shower. You know which knob to turn."

"Yes, mama." At least a betrayal from a Schuldig mama would make sense.

Schuldig threw a malodorous pillow at him.

When Farfarello walked out of the bathroom damp and cooler still, he saw a change of sheets on the bed. "Whom have you been around lately to make you this domestic?"

"Fujimiya Aya. The guy one."

Schuldig had always been drawn to that one. "Makes some sense," Farfarello replied.

Schuldig wore all white, linen and cotton. He could have been on safari. He'd left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, exposing collarbones Farfarello wanted to nip and a neck studded with a few hickeys, not all of them from him. Harlot. His body cooling, liquid spreading to his parched cells, Farfarello's hungers surged. He sat on Schuldig's lap, facing him, and set his mouth to the salty skin just over his collarbones.

"How do you feel about me?" Schuldig suddenly asked quietly. "Don't worry that I'm suddenly turning into a 12-year-old girl trying to force you to say flowery things I'd want to hear. What I want is the truth. I'm curious."

"You're a telepath, fool."

Schuldig's mouth quirked in a nearly bitter way. "I know what you know on the surface. I want to hear you work through it and say it. Humor me."

"I feel it rather than know it-- Ah. I see the method in your madness." Farfarello saw now that Schuldig wanted to force him to come to some conclusion. He didn't mind. "I enjoy your company when fighting, killing, fucking, drinking, and dancing. It amuses me when you take care of me. You're a good partner, and I like having you around."

"That's it?"

"Hmm. I don't love you if that's what you're asking. I doubt I'm capable anymore."

Schuldig let out what sounded like a relieved breath. Offended, Farfarello pushed him down onto the bed and let his towel start to slide off his hips. In response Schuldig bared his teeth and stared into him, fire in his blue eyes, but didn't buck him off. Part of the way into this telepath's mind was through his body.

He would make Schuldig need and love him. Farfarello might not be entirely capable of love anymore, but he still knew the benefits of possession.

 

### End


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